


Something Real

by marauder_in_warblerland



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-20
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-16 09:32:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauder_in_warblerland/pseuds/marauder_in_warblerland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 5.12 reaction fic inspired by januarium's prompt: ”Someone write me fic of Blam holding a meeting with the newbies while Will shows off the plaques to the people who aren’t or soon won’t be at the school any more plz.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Real

“Can we go home yet?” Blaine hears Kitty before he sees her.

He and Sam find the sophomores and juniors draped over the chairs like disgruntled puppies. At some point, Ryder and Jake must have given up on the chairs entirely and sprawled across the floor, their heads resting on lumpy piles of backpacks and jackets.

It isn’t until Kitty sits up in her makeshift bed of plastic chairs, that Blaine can find a body to go with the voice. “Hello?” she asks again. “Are we allowed to leave, or do we have to keep pretending to worship the great and mighty _original members_ of a defunct club?”

Marley lifts her head from the back of a chair. “I think Mr. Schue wanted us to wait here until they got back.”

“Get back from what?” Kitty bites back, “their little members-only trip to the auditorium that only they could possibly understand? I don’t know about the virginity twins over there, but I have better things to do with my time.”

Ryder rolls his eyes, but no one interrupts. She’s on a roll.

“And then when they get back,” she goes on, “we can pat them on the head and make them feel better about the special nostalgic pain that must be too complicated for our widdle brains to understand.”

Blaine sighs. “I don’t think—”

“She has a point.” Jake says, staring pointedly at the ceiling. Unique nods. Marley just looks queasy.

“Kitty,” Blaine tries, gingerly. “Are you really going to judge them for a moment with Finn’s plaque? They didn’t get to perform his songs in Los Angeles like we did. We had our moment.”  He scoots the piano bench forward and perches on the edge, while Sam swings a chair around to straddle the back.

“Puppet man,” Kitty glares in Blaine’s direction, but there’s no fire behind her eyes. “You know as well as I do that I wouldn’t begrudge them a 24 hour séance with Finn’s plaque if it hadn’t been like this _all week_.”

“Amen,” Unique calls from across the room.

Kitty sets her feet on the floor, and suddenly sounds exhausted. “Look Blaine, I know that my boyfriend is part of that incestuous cult known as the Originals, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it and, for that matter, neither do you. We have as much a right to celebrate this club as they do.”

“More really.” Ryder grumbles. He pulls himself up from the floor and drops into a chair at Kitty’s side. “It was really fun singing with a bunch of people who don’t know our names, but we’re the ones who are actually losing something.”

“Exactly.” Jake sits up on the floor, his head bobbing in time with Ryder’s waving hands.  “I get that they had a chance to be a part of something special or whatever, but we’re getting something special taken away from us _right now_. When do we get to be pissed off about that?”

Unique inches towards the growing circle, only settling down when Ryder pats an open chair. “You all know that Unique adores our Miss Mercedes Jones,” she says, “but that girl just about stomped on my last nerve this week.”

“During our ‘education sessions’?” Marley asks, leaning on the back of Unique’s chair.

“Oh yes ma’am. And after an hour listening to Rachel—”

“Why did we have to vote between Rachel and Mercedes anyway?” Jake calls from the floor, “It’s not like there was anything to win.”

“Right,” Kitty laughs, “And if there was, they could have just decided it like we do.”

“What are you talking about?” Blaine asks, lost. “We vote on solos all the time.”

“No, Blaine.” Kitty pats him on the head.” That’s what we tell you. Usually Tina just threatens us with bodily harm, and we check the box that says ‘Blaineydays gets a solo and all the new polos his little heart desires.’” 

Jake snorts, while Sam holds up his hands in the universal sign of surrender. “Don’t look at me, man. I would have voted for you anyway.”

“Thank you?” Blaine tugs on his button-up. Maybe Kurt was right about diversifying his wardrobe.

Marley still looks queasy. “I don’t want to say anything bad about Rachel and everyone, especially now,” she starts, “but this week has been really weird.” Blaine feels himself nodding along with the rest of the group.

“Especially,” she says, “when Rachel and Santana were fighting, it was like … _Thunderdome_ and, I know we weren’t there for the early years, but that didn’t feel like my Glee club.”

“At least not for a while now.” Kitty says, quietly.

Ryder pats her arm. “You got better.”

Marley smiles in Kitty’s direction. “I guess I’m just sad that nothing is allowed to change. It’s like we have to be mean and super intense or else, somehow, it doesn’t count.”

“Right,” Jake groans. “It’s like we have to be at each other’s throats for this to be the real Glee club. Until then, we’re always just going be stand-ins or, I don’t know, fake versions of the real New Directions.”

Their words settle around everyone in the room like an acknowledgment of what, apparently, everyone except Blaine had been thinking. Maybe it was Kurt’s visit, or the wait for his NYADA letter, but Blaine hadn’t even noticed how lost his friends felt in a choir room full of veterans. Veterans, they might add, who were redoing songs this group didn’t even have the chance to remember. Unique leans back into Marley and, together, they stare down at the floor.

After a long minute, Sam clears his throat into the silence. “Well ok then,” he says. “In that case, I chose the fakes. As a guy who has been in both the “real” and the “fake” New Directions, I chose the Fake New Directions. The Fake New Directions sound way better and Sue only cut the so-called “real” New Directions, so we’re still good to go, right? New name, new start, and this one could just be ours.”

As Sam’s words register, Blaine looks up and a smile slowly spreads across his face. He isn’t the only one.

“So what do you say guys,” Sam smiles. “Can I call the first official meeting of the Fake New Directions to order?”

“Heck yeah, you can!” Ryder hops forward in his chair until Unique pats him on the shoulder.

“I just want to say for the record that I think both of you are insane and that’s an awful name,” Kitty says. “But if the ‘Fake New Directions’ are redoing old songs, I volunteer Sam for _Against All Odds_.”

Blaine thinks about objecting— he’s not prepared to give up P!nk and Phil Collins in the same week—but Unique’s already off and running.

“Ohhh yes,” she grins. “This time we could pick up the pace! It could be more disco or— I don’t know. I’m going to need Tina for this.” She turns to Marley, all aflutter. “And then after _Against All Odds_ , we could redo _Blow Me (One Last Kiss)_ , but we aren’t changing anything because, girl we killed that on try number one.”

They slap a high five as Ryder jumps in, “We could all pick a song that went really well the first time around.”

“I can see it now,” Kitty snorts, raising her hands to frame an imaginary sign. “Catfish: The Musical. “

Unique rolls her eyes. “Oh don’t even, Miss Thing. You know we have that name copyrighted, and Unique is going to be a _revelation_ as the tortured ingénue.” She nudges Ryder with her foot, gentle and familiar. Blaine makes a note to ask Tina about that later, but for the moment there are more pressing matters.

“Wait,” he says. “Are we sure that redoing songs is the kind of thing the Fake New Directions would do? It seems like our Glee club might be less about recreating the past and more about creating something for the future.” He shrugs and watches as the club nods back.

“Very true,” Unique smiles, “the _Faux_ Directions do not live in the past. We are the future.” 

“But,” Marley raises her hand. “We are going to tell Artie and Tina about this, right?”

Jake grimaces. “I don’t think we have a choice. Tina would just _know_. I don’t get how she does it, but she looks at me and she just knows things.”

“What kinds of things?” Ryder asks. Unique and Kitty lean in.

“I dunno, just…  things.” Jake shrugs, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Of course we can tell Tina, and Artie,” Blaine nods, with a gesture towards Kitty. “They might be in the auditorium right now, but they’re with us too. Our club, or non-club, belongs to them as much as it belongs to any of us. They’re just … caught in the middle right now.”

“It’s probably good that Arthur isn’t here right now, anyway,” Kitty lifts an eyebrow. “He won’t stop singing ‘Talk Dirty to Me” pretty much everywhere, and let’s just say that this girl is getting tired of pretending to ‘no habla inglés in public places.”

“TMI,” Jake mutters.

“Ok then!” Blaine shifts in his seat. He will not be asking about that later. “As the first order of Faux Directions business, I move to elect an incoming president and songwriting master. All in favor of Marley Rose, say ay.”

Blaine thinks he hears someone whisper, “once a Warbler, always a Warbler,” but they play along. “Ays” echo around the room and Marley blushes as red as Blaine’s pants.

“Thank you guys!” She grins and bounces in her seat. “I promise I won’t let you down.”

“We know,” Unique smiles. “You’re a star.”

“Plus, you’d pretty much have to bury us under the cafeteria for things to get any worse than they already are,” Jake cracks, laughing and ducking away from Unique’s open palm.

“Oh!” Marley’s eyes go wide and she dives into her purse. “If this is going to be our first official meeting, I think we should put our new status in writing.”

“Do you have a contract and a pen in there?” Kitty asks, craning her neck to watch Marley’s hands root inside her bag. “’Cause I don’t care how many times we braid each other’s hair, I’m not writing anything in blood.” 

“Marley?” Blaine leans down to her level while pointedly not looking in her purse. “If you want, I can go get some pens from the art room. I still have the key.”

“Aha!” Marley pulls out single permanent marker and raises it aloft. “Thank you Blaine, but this should be perfect. Plus, as outgoing Faux Directions Captain, I think you’re up first.”

**************************************

The others aren’t gone for long. Soon Puck, Kurt, Mercedes, and the others wander back to the choir room, and they all go their separate ways.

Later, if Kurt notices a tiny “FD” on the inside of Blaine’s wrist, written just over his pulse point, he doesn’t ask why. There’s something private about the letters, something sacred. Pointing them out feels like a violation. Blaine will tell him when he’s ready. For now, Kurt swipes a thumb over Blaine’s wrist and imagines that he can feel the letters under his skin, as though something of the mark will still be there, even when the ink has long since faded to nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my betas amongsoulsandshadows and gluttonouspenguin!


End file.
